


c'est la vie

by iamslytherlocked, impulserun



Series: age of miracles [7]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 16:49:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2857919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamslytherlocked/pseuds/iamslytherlocked, https://archiveofourown.org/users/impulserun/pseuds/impulserun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aka, Daily Lives of Avengers!AU idiots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the lizard episode

One evening, for reasons nobody can understand, Courfeyrac decides that trying to shoot down a lizard with a rubber band is a good idea.

*

“IT’S THE LIZARD,” comes a screech from the direction of the communal living room. “OH GOD IT’S BACK SAVE ME FERRE.”

“What even,” says Combeferre blankly, before putting down his research. He’s in the lab that’s literally five floors below the communal living room, and really, how on earth is his screaming _that loud_?

Nevertheless, being a good housemate and ‘science bro’, as Courfeyrac had put it, Combeferre sighs and leaves the relative safety of the laboratory behind, adjusting his glasses as he goes.

*

In the living room, he finds Courfeyrac cowering behind the sofa, eyes fixed on a tiny green lizard perched innocuously on the ceiling halfway across the room.

“Um,” says Combeferre. “Courfeyrac?”

“Get it away from me,” the brunet whimpers, diving behind the pillow he’s apparently using as a shield. Combeferre briefly entertains the notion of taking a photo to send to Enjolras; it’s pretty evident that Courfeyrac needs shield-holding lessons. But no; that wouldn’t be very ‘science bro’ of him.

“Courfeyrac,” he says instead, “what on earth are you doing?”

“Remember when Montparnasse shot down that wasp with a rubber band?”

He does; it’d been not long after the entire Chitauri fiasco. In the aftermath of the Battle for New York (as Courfeyrac had dubbed it), they’d been lazing around the destitute remains of downtown Manhattan when a wasp had come buzzing angrily at Enjolras’ face.

“If I throw my shield at it,” the already irate blond had huffed, dodging the winged harbinger of painful and itchy stings, “is that considered ‘overkill’?”

“No wait, it’s cool, I’ve got this,” Montparnasse had piped up, fishing a rubber band out of a back pocket.

The wasp had fallen out of the sky with a resounding _thwack_.

Realisation dawns.

“No,” he groans. “No, you didn’t. Courfeyrac, please tell me you didn’t.”

Courfeyrac meeps, and it is _adorable_.

“Why,” he says, “just, _why_ did you shoot a lizard with a rubber band?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time?”

“Okay. So. You shot a lizard with a rubber band.”

“ _Yes_ ,” he hisses, peeking out from the cushion. The lizard has taken the opportunity to crawl over to the wall by the sofa; Courfeyrac shrieks and dives for cover.

The corners of his lips threaten to quirk up. “It’s just a lizard, Courf.”

“Are you _kidding_? Did you see the news about that spider kid and the mutant lizard-man? This thing is out for my blood!”

As if on cue, the lizard thumps its tail against the wail, which Courfeyrac takes as proof that he is about to meet his end by cold reptilian means.

 “Ferre,” he whines. “ _Help me_.”

He breathes in deeply through his nose, quashes down the tiny spark of irritation that’s rising to the top. This is Courfeyrac he’s dealing with. He ought to be used to this by now.

*

Five minutes and a trip to the kitchen for a cup later, the lizard has been safely extracted from the living room. Peace is restored once more.

“My hero,” Courfeyrac swoons, with something akin to adoration in his eyes. Combeferre does not blush. He does _not_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a true story.  
> I was Courfeyrac. I had no Ferre. The lizard is still somewhere in my house.  
> I regret trying to play Hawkeye to this day.


	2. howling commandos (part 1)

“Hey, Enjolras!” comes a muffled call from the living room. “Did you know they made a TV series about us?”

“Yes,” Enjolras replies, “along with three documentaries, one movie, five radio plays and a line of comic books." Also a bunch of weird porn videos, he tacks on mentally, but Grantaire has already destroyed three of Courfeyrac’s tablet computers and punched his way through several thousand punching bags in a fit of jealous anger over random paparazzi news reports. Rich as the man is, he _is_ his father’s son. He’s not sure how long Courfeyrac’s patience will last. “Why? Did you want to watch it or something?”

“Sure, why not?” grins Grantaire. “It’d be good to finally catch something of real quality.”

*

When he returns from his foray into the kitchen laden down with various snacks – recommendations by Courfeyrac, with amendments by Eponine and Cosette alike, and the leftovers of the time he ransacked the contents a traditional sweet shop for Grantaire’s birthday – he finds Montparnasse perched on the back of the sofa, a look of barely contained glee on his face.

“So I hear you two are going to watch the rerun of Howling Commandos this evening?”

“Um? Yes?” says Enjolras. His face adopts a perplexed expression when Montparnasse bursts into stifled giggles.

“Trust me,” the sniper snickers, “you’re gonna want me here for the fallout.”

“ _Um_?” says Enjolras again, and his eyes dart over to Eponine, lounging casually on the guest armchair and taking large bites from a rosy red apple, silently pleading for an explanation. She offers him a smirk and nothing more.

*

By six o’clock, Montparnasse’s fat mouth (and possibly JAVERT’s interference) has ensured that the entire tower is aware of their plan, leading Courfeyrac to declare the evening an unofficial movie night.

“Oh, hey!” Courfeyrac exclaims, spewing mouthfuls of popcorn everywhere. “This the Howling Commandos series by the History Channel? I almost starred on this show, y’know.”

“Really?”

“Well, yeah. They asked me to play my dad. Family resemblance and all.” He wilts slightly. “I said no.”

*

The show seems promising if the opening credits are anything to go by. The music is decent, the effects are okay, and at least he can tell from the gritty aesthetic that this won’t be a repeat of the terrible action flick from the 80s. And – hey! – Feuilly is actually in the opening! They didn’t whitewash anybody! His friends are all their actual races! By the end of the credits, he’s feeling far more optimistic about the show than before.

At some point, Enjolras realises that Grantaire is being awfully quiet about this whole affair.

Grantaire, who is sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring at the television with a gaping mouth.

“Is that tiny little punk,” he says at last, “supposed to be _me_?”

Silence. The waifish man carrying the sniper rifle responds to a call of “Grantaire!” and darts off screen.

“This is like some horrible dream,” real-Grantaire says, aghast. “They – they turned me into _you_.”

“You should be flattered,” says Enjolras. A kernel of popcorn bounces off his head.

*

“Why,” says Grantaire, “am I smaller than Enjolras?”

The Enjolras on screen cuts an imposing figure in his uniform. His jaw juts out defiantly in the face of danger, and he actually knows how to handle his shield. He is tall, his blond hair a perfect frame for resolute blue eyes, and the callback to his rebirth via serum reveals a body that is sculpted like marble.

(“Damn it,” mutters Courfeyrac. “Look at that _ass_. I should have gone on that show just to get this guy’s number.”)

He also towers over the tv!Grantaire by what appears to be a full head.

“Why,” says Grantaire again, “am I smaller than Enjolras? Why am I the punk in this relationship?”

His voice is reaching dangerously low levels, and he’s squinting at the television screen in the exact same way he once stared at fleeing Nazis down the barrel of a sniper rifle, and Enjolras really does not want movie night to end with a fist-shaped hole in their TV. So he does the first thing that comes to mind. He shifts right over and plops himself in Grantaire’s lap.

The silence that ensues is equal parts amused (Eponine, Montparnasse) and horrified (Courfeyrac).

“Oh,” says Grantaire. “Well, hello there.”

*

“This is worse than watching my parents have sex,” Courfeyrac moans, flinging an arm over his eyes. “The horror, Ferre. The _horror_.”

“Oh, pipe down over there,” says Eponine, rolling her eyes as she chucks a kernel of popcorn at his head. “I can’t hear the TV.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued....
> 
> (No, seriously. The Howling Commandos TV series saga is not over yet. But I haven't posted anything in forever so I figured eh, fuck it, gonna split it into parts. u_u )
> 
> TV!Enjolras is played by Aaron Tveit. TV!Grantaire is played by George Blagden.
> 
> Courfeyrac's despair and horror is a call back to voulez-vouz.


	3. a fever dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to AOU and then promptly forgotten about for like, half a year. #sorry

“Hey,” says Combeferre, sidling into the kitchen.

“Hey yourself.” Eponine yawns and leans over the counter to snag a bottle of water, sending it skidding down the table; he catches it with practiced skill. She watches, amused, as he allows himself a quick grin – then the features of his face settle back into their serious mask.

“So, um, you and Montparnasse, you have – a thing, right?”

“Love is for children,” she says automatically, but she won’t deny that Montparnasse makes her feel safe. She hasn’t had that in a long time. “But yes, you could say that.”

“Oh. Okay. Okay, good, because –” Combeferre exhales explosively. “I had this, um. Dream, if you could call it that.”

“Oh?” She blinks.

“I – Just – Never mind. Call it a fever dream.” He pauses again, this time to pull off his glasses and massage his temples. “Listen, I’m going to go see if I can’t convince JAVERT to help me rig up a bot or two under Courfeyrac’s bed. D’you wanna come help me stand watch?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Prank Courfeyrac and get my weight’s worth in gold in blackmail material, or get on Courfeyrac’s bad side?” A quick grin, sharp and sly, slowly creeps across her face. “Decisions, decisions.”

*

It’s worth it, Eponine decides later, when Courfeyrac’s earsplitting shriek echoes across the tower, and JAVERT interrupts a sparring session with Enjolras to provide them with a recording in HD surround-sound.

“So, so worth it,” Cosette agrees.


End file.
